The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (10 page)

“
A lot of distance?”

Roslaw nodded, but Mrost spoke up before he had a chance to say anything. “Three monsters in five days, and they’re after you. The farther you go, the safer we’ll all be,” he sneered.

“
So now you say they’re after me—and now you’re afraid to be near me. Who’s the coward now, eh, Mrost?” Javor said.

Mrost spat on the ground. “That’s what I think of you fighting anything. Just get out, Javor.”

In a single fluid motion, Javor grabbed Mrost’s wrist, twisted it behind his back and kicked his backside. Mrost fell face-first in the dust. “You get out, Mrost. My parents are dead and I don’t feel like hearing your voice anymore.”

Someone touched his arm, and Javor spun, whipping the enchanted dagger out to find himself holding it to Roslaw’s throat. “Now, now, Javor,” the older man sputtered, trying to sound conciliatory but trembling with fear. “There’s no need for fighting among ourselves, especially when we’re surrounded by as many enemies as we are.”

“
He is right, Javor. Put away your weapon,” said a low, calm voice. It was Vorona. As usual, she had come into their midst without their notice. She wore her plain grey hood and cloak, but just looking at her made Javor hold his breath. “You have proven yourself in battle, Javor, and you have been anointed. Now you are ready.”

Javor put away the dagger. “We’ve prepared enough food for you and Photius for some days. Perhaps you should say goodbye to your friends and leave early, so you can make some distance and perhaps find some shelter before dark.”

Javor looked at Photius, whose face was unreadable. But the old man nodded.

“
All right,” Javor said slowly. “I’ll go right now.”

Just inside the gate, the elders of the village—those who were left alive, such as Roslaw, Borys, Bogud and a few other men—had prepared a backpack for Javor. “It has your things from your parents’ house,” said his uncle. Photius was ready to go; he wore his cloak and wide-brimmed hat, and a full pack on his back. On the ground were also some bags of food that Javor and Photius could carry over their shoulders. Behind the men, the rest of the villagers had gathered in an uneasy mob.

Hrech came out of the crowd with tears in his eyes. He hugged Javor so tightly that Javor had trouble breathing. Javor squeezed back and patted his shoulder until Hrech let go and, head low, turned away.

Javor went to Elli, who stood with her friends. She drew back, looking around for help. Javor had imagined making a grand speech, but now he couldn’t think of anything to say. “Good-bye, Elli,” he said, awkwardly, taking her hands in his. “I ... I’ll miss you.”
Stupid, that’s not good enough! Do it!
he thought. “I love you.” Her eyes went wide and she shrank back again. Javor leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but Elli leaned back, whimpering, and Javor gave up. He turned away, picked up the back-pack and shoulder bags and without another word strode out of the holody.

Photius fell into step beside him and together they turned south in the late morning sunshine. Neither spoke and neither looked back.

###

End of Part 1.

###

Part 2
: Tests

Chapter 7
: Journeying south

His voice,
Javor thought,
is so irritating.
No matter what the old man was saying, even when Javor didn’t pay attention to the words, the raspy, dry sound could put him on edge. While he barely heard him sometimes, at other times he wished Photius would just shut up: early in the morning, and also when the sun shone hot onto his head as they walked, scorching the back of his neck when they rested or gathered firewood before they camped down for the night.
He never stops talking. How can he keep going on?

“
Where are we going?” he had asked that first day, as they left the village.

“
South, first, to the border of the Empire, and then to Constantinople,” Javor answered.

“
Is it far?”

“
Many leagues. We are well beyond the Empire’s borders, and the capital is another long journey within those borders.”

“
How long will it take?”

“
Since we are travelling on foot, it will take some weeks, I believe.”

“
Don’t you know?”

Photius walked into a thick stand of trees, reached up and carefully took something he had hidden there: a bow and a quiver of arrows. Photius slung them over opposite shoulders. He sighed. “My boy, I did not take a direct route from Constantinople to your little village in the wilderness. It has taken me literally years of searching to find you and your great-grandfather’s treasures. Fortunately, it took Ghastog just as long.”

“
Not ‘fortunately,’” said Javor, choking, and found himself weeping.

Photius led the way south until Javor saw his favourite tree—the tree he always climbed, every time he passed it when he was outside the village. It was a beech whose lowest branches were out of reach of everyone in the village except for him. He jumped, grabbed the branch and hauled himself up. He climbed until the branches were too small to bear his weight anymore and looked back at his village and the holody. He looked while the breeze tickled his cheek, and the leaves shaded him from the high sun. Eventually, he climbed down and joined Photius again. They walked in silence.

They stopped when the sun drove them into the shade. Photius shared some of his wine and their food from the village, and Javor filled their water-skins at a stream before they continued south.

Javor grew more anxious through the day; he expected the dragon to pounce on them. “Worry not, my boy,” said Photius as he hopped across a small stream. “It will take time to recover its strength after you cut off its claw.” But toward sunset, he climbed a small, bare hill that gave them a wide view of forests and meadows and in the distance, both north and south, a hint of mountains. Just as the sun touched the horizon, Photius raised his arms and spoke a long, rambling spell in what sounded to Javor like the same ancient language he had used outside Ghastog’s cave.

“
I have put us under a cloak of shadow,” he said when he lowered his arms. “It should afford us some measure of protection, of hiding from evil eyes that are borne aloft, at least during the day.” That night, they hid under the bole of a huge oak amid a thick stand of trees.

Photius sat up, staring into their small campfire while Javor tried to get comfortable. He couldn’t keep his eyes shut.
Are monsters sneaking up on us?
Javor wondered.
I never used to believe in monsters. Now I suppose I have to.

He tried to distinguish the shadows beyond their campfire, tried to identify every sound in the night while Photius seemed oblivious to anything except the campfire.

All at once, he bolted upright, heart racing. Long howls echoed under the lopsided moon. “Wolves!” He realized he had been asleep, after all.

Photius was still awake, listening intently. “They will not bother us,” he said, turning his eyes to the fire again. “They are simply natural wolves, nighttime hunters as we men are daytime hunters.”

“
Natural wolves? What other kind of wolves are there?” Javor asked, but Photius wouldn’t say anymore. It took Javor a long time to fall asleep.

He woke to Photius gently shaking his shoulder. Behind his wrinkled face, the sky was dark gray. It was just dawn. “We had best get going,” the old man said. He gave Javor some of the bread from his village and let him take a sip of his fortifying wine.

The bread was getting stale. Chewing, Javor looked up at the sky. The east was gold, tinged with red. The clouds were thin and high. Javor watched one like a horse’s tail drift from west to east as sunlight changed from orange to yellow to white.

“
Javor? Come on, the day is slipping away. Let’s go,” Photius said impatiently. He was ready to go, wearing his cloak, hat and pack and holding his long walking staff.

Javor stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth, took a swig of water from a skin and wished he hadn’t as the bread dissolved into a paste in his mouth. He watched the sky as it became high and blue with white tendrils.
It’s going to be a beautiful day.

“
Come on, Javor,” Photius said again. Javor picked up his pack and followed him.

“
Wait,” he replied. He looked at a tall tree, took two fast steps and sprang up to catch a branch well over his head. Photius watched astonished as Javor practically leaped up the tree until he was sure the branch would break under the tall boy’s weight.

Javor enjoyed the tree’s swaying as he took a good look around. North, he saw the hills, but could not see his home village.
No longer my home.

Southward, meadows and forests covering gently rising hills. No sign of villages or people, but there was a slight smudge in the sky that may have been smoke. Eastward was the same to the shadow of the distant mountains.

Westward were meadows and forests under clear blue skies decorated with thin clouds like feathers.
No rain for a couple of days.

He climbed, then jumped to the ground. Photius was impatient, but there was another look on his face that Javor could not interpret. He picked up his pack and followed the old man without a word. 

They walked southward along streams or animal tracks through forests, across meadows and fields; they didn’t see any other signs of human habitation. “This whole area was depopulated after the collapse of Rome and the incursions of wave after wave of barbarian raiders,” Photius explained.

“
Where are the Empire’s borders from here?” Javor asked the next day.

“
I intend to reach the Empire by moving southward as directly as possible,” said Photius. “This region is poorly mapped, and since the barbarian incursions, knowledge of the land has deteriorated as travel here is not safe for merchants or other travellers. I expect we should reach the river Danuvius in some weeks.”

At another point, Javor asked “Why are we going to Cons – Constalid ...”

“
Constantinople, Javor. You must learn to pronounce it. In fact, it would be good if you learned to speak Greek like a civilized person.” That stung, although Javor wasn’t sure what he meant. “Constantinople is the centre, the capital of the Empire, the home of learning and culture, and the home of my order. There, scholars can help me decipher the meaning of the runes on your amulet and dagger, and perhaps give us a clue about the reason for the calamities affecting the world today.”

So they kept heading south as best they could, occasionally diverted by a river or steep hill. They fell into a pattern: in the morning, they breakfasted on dried bread or grain meal from the villagers, and then Photius trained Javor for an hour or so in fighting with sword, knife and dagger. Then, Photius would tell Javor to pack up to start walking south. Before they left, Javor would climb a tree for a look ahead. He was anxious about seeing mounted men or something against the sky that he did not recognize, but he never saw anything but birds.

Photius soon got used to having to continually prompt Javor to get ready and start moving—the boy often seemed to get stuck in the middle of dressing, and Photius would see him staring either at the sky or at the ground, or at nothing at all.

They’d walk until the sun grew too hot to travel under, then rest in the shade. Javor wanted to sleep at these times, but Photius insisted on instructing him. Sometimes, he taught Javor to speak Greek. At other times, he gave long lectures about the history of the Roman Empire: how the Empire had been divided into East and West halves, and how the Emperor Constantine had moved the capital to the old city of Byzantium, on the straits that separated Europe from Asia, and renamed it New Rome. “But the people insisted on calling it Constantinople, after the Emperor.”

Photius told Javor that barbarians had swept out of the trackless wildernesses of Asia to destroy the Western Empire, swarming in wave after wave for two centuries. “But the Eastern Empire, its capital in Constantinople, has fought off the invaders and maintained the splendour of Rome and the light of civilization.”

Most of this talk of different races and distant countries only made Javor even more anxious; this was the first time in his fifteen years that he had been so far from his home.

After a rest, they would resume walking until they started to get hungry again, or until the sun started to get lower. They’d scout out a camping spot and gather branches and boughs and grasses to make beds. Javor would gather firewood and make a fire, and sometimes Photius would shoot a rabbit or other small game with his bow.

When it rained, they hid under the trees and made rough tents out of their cloaks. And as the sun set, Javor would fall into an exhausted sleep.

Still, he had lived his whole life working on a farm, and he was used to rising with the sun. Gradually, he grew used to the new pattern: rise, eat, walk, train, then walk some more. Photius was very pleased with the training. “You have a natural gift for the sword, Javor!” he would exclaim frequently. And so it seemed to Javor, too. Parries, blocks, jabs and other moves seemed perfectly natural, like there was no other way to move. Soon, their sparring sessions were heavy workouts for both men. The main drawback for Javor was that the rough peasant’s tunic he wore wasn’t suited as clothing under a warrior’s weapons, and the leather straps and metal buckles chafed him.

But at night, Javor had to fight to keep down the memories of his parents, of his lost brothers and sisters. He would concentrate on the sounds of the night, listening for the sound of anything approaching.

“
Tell me, Javor, did your people ever say you were ... different?” Photius asked one day as they crossed a meadow.

Not him, too
. Javor had to stop. He looked at the sky and took a deep breath. “Different. Weird. Touched. Crazy, stupid.” The last two were the same word in Javor’s language. “Now you think so, too.”

“
No, no!” Photius protested. “No, you are not crazy, Javor. But you are unusual.”

“
Is it crazy to notice how clouds move? Stupid to figure out what the weather will be tomorrow? Mrost couldn’t understand how I did that, so he said I was stupid!” Javor shouted. He was no longer in the wilderness with Photius; he was in the village, surrounded by laughing, taunting children. Mrost was leading them, pointing at Javor, encouraging derision. It took Javor some time to come back to the present.

As they continued southward, the terrain became hillier. Cliffs rose sheer out of the forests, which were also thinning, replaced by broad, rolling meadows and grasslands. They heard no more wolves howling after that first night.

As they walked, Photius told Javor about the monsters that had come on the heels of the barbarians, adding to Europe’s misery, and about the theories of his “order” of scholars in Constantinople. He also talked about the stories of the gods, about a new God of an obscure people in the eastern parts of the Empire, about how the Emperor Constantine had come to worship this new God and had made its religion, Christianity, the official religion of the Empire (Javor thought Photius sounded sceptical about it, himself). Once, he said that other, older gods and demons were fighting a war around the edges of the world.